Claustrophobia: How To Get Closer To Your Boss
by comeonbeetches
Summary: After a particularly trying mission, Gregory deems Christophe to have claustrophobia.


Thunk!

"Oh." someone muttered, guttural and pained.

In my last moments of consciousness, I felt a pang of fear for my co-worker. I hoped he could get away, however slim the chance was.

"Christophe! Oh God, no. Christophe, please wake up."

It was the most wonderful and disheartening voice I had heard.

I didn't bother to open my eyes.

"Gregory, ugh, I was hoping you'd gotten away," I moaned.

Slowly, I peeled my eyes open, and then quickly they shot open entirely.

Gregory's apprehensive eyes- I was able to see each individual eyelash, oh God- watched. His hair was just inches, if not a mere inch, from my face. My breath hitched and released in a frantic manner, the hairs on my arms rising and my pulse raising.

"Why is this room so tiny?" I hissed, pulling my arms in.

Gregory's eyes lit up with realization.

"Oh no..." he whispered, "I didn't know you were claustrophobic.

That stupid, beautiful idiot.

I closed my eyes and tilted my head up. Why on Earth had we been crammed into a damn box the size of a refrigerator?

"Shh," he soothed. I felt his palm rest against my neck and tensed. "I'm here with you."

He started to rub his fingers against my skin, apparently to try and calm me down, but all it did was frustrate me more. My arms shot out and pressed up to the wall on either side of his head and breathed out heavily.

He removed his hand and apologized, "Did I startle you?"

I peeked out from under my eyelashes.

"No, no it's fine." I choked. I focused on my breathing instead of the man standing so close, too close, to me.

Suddenly, the room jolted and tilted until we were completely horizontal.

Gregory gasped and bounced after the collision. This was a worse situation. I keened and shut my eyes tighter.

"Calm yourself," Gregory said, right in my ear. I shivered when his breath hit my skin.

The room got incredibly bright, from what I could see past my eyelids.

I sprang up and heard the sound of the safety being turned off. I opened my eyes finally and saw a man standing and staring furiously at me. We had been put on a pier.

"Fuck off," Gregory said, readying his finger on the trigger. He was still lying in the crate, as I could see now.

The man glowered and walked backwards to the corner of the dock.

Gregory climbed out of the crate and stepped up beside me.

"Let's get out of here." he smiled, grabbing my arm. I felt goose bumps rise on the arm he was grasping.

* * *

We found an information centre quickly, and asked where the airport was. By the end of the day we were on a plane back to Colorado.

"Christophe," Gregory began. I turned to him and raised my eyebrows.

"I'd like to help you with your problem."

He moved over and put a hand on my arm. I frowned and looked at his hand then back to his face. Nimbly, he crawled onto my lap, leaning down and nuzzling into my neck.

I gasped as his hands brushed over my chest, moving into the fabric to get at my skin.

"Are you okay?"

Gregory's hand rested on my arm and I blinked.

"Hm? Oh, yeah," I said, leaning back in the seat, "I'm fine."

Gregory furrowed his brow, and then shook his head.

"As I was saying, I was wondering if you wanted to go to therapy for your claustrophobia." he told me.

Oh shit. What should I do? Go to therapy for a phobia that doesn't exist? Or finally tell my co-worker that all I want to do is be with him?

"Yeah, if you think it could help."

Coward.

Gregory's eyes crinkled with his smile, in that way that made me want to press my body against his. He turned away and leaned his head back in his seat.

We arrived in Colorado at about 4 am. Jet lag was hell for Gregory, so I drove the rental car back to his apartment. I put him in his bed and left for my apartment next door. We decided to live close together for easy contact when we received new objectives.

I fell onto my bed and let unconsciousness sweep over me.

* * *

"Wake up,"

I rolled over off of my face and saw Gregory's shining eyes above me. My heart stuttered.

"I was looking for good psychologists last night," he said, sitting at the edge of my bed.

"Last night?" I questioned, rubbing my eyes.

Gregory placed his hands in his lap and smiled. "I only sleep for about two hours," he explained.

I propped myself up on my elbows. "That's interesting." I said.

Gregory laughed. "I trained myself to do it, because I didn't like spending so much time doing nothing."

I got out of the bed, stretching until I felt my back crack. "So what did you find?" I asked.

"Uh, oh! Yes, a Dr. Lang. His office is on Second Street." Gregory said.

I turned to him and smiled. "Sounds great."

We arrived at the office at five to two, when Gregory had scheduled the conference.

"Now, it'll just be Dr. Lang and you in the room. I'll be out here in the lobby waiting." Gregory told me. I put my hands in the pockets of my jeans.

"Okay, I'll see you in an hour then." I replied, looking over to see the receptionist watching us curiously.

Gregory waved me away and went to sit down on the bench. I walked over to the receptionist and nodded in greeting.

"Hello, I'm here to see Dr. Lang. My name is Christophe. Christophe DeLorne." I told her.

She checked her book.

"Hi, Mr. DeLorne. Go right on in." She said, cordially.

I patted the desk and uttered a "Thanks," and then entered the next room.

A smartly dressed man in wire-rimmed glasses looked up from his book.

"Christophe, I presume?" he asked, closing the book and adjusting his glasses.

I nodded and sat down in one of the chairs. "That's me." I responded.

He chuckled and brought his hands together.

"So, what are you in for?" he inquired, picking up a notepad and pen. He clicked it open and held it at the ready.

I blew out a shallow breath and leaned into my chair.

"Claustrophobia is what my friend thinks I have." I told him.

The therapist tilted his head and let his hands relax in his lap.

"Why don't we start at the beginning of you problem?" he said, crossing his legs.

I looked at him and lifted a hand through my hair.

"I guess it started when me and him met."

* * *

_"DeLorne, I know you've never had a partner, so I thought the newbie would be a perfect start."_

_I doubted very much that it was going to work out._

_"He was hired on yesterday, and he's coming in for the first time today. So be- oh, hello. Speak of the devil." My boss smirked in the direction of the doorway._

_Shit, his first day? I could only groan in my head. This was going to suck._

_I turned around to see..._

"You saw?"

I blinked and realized I'd stopped talking. Dr. Lang was leaning forward expectantly, his eyebrows raised and mouth opened slightly.

"I saw the most perfect man I had ever seen in my life."

_His skin was smooth, not a scratch or marking apparent. When he smiled- at me no less- his teeth looked like they came straight out of a toothpaste commercial. His hair was blonde, in loose curls that framed his face. He stood in the room with an air of royalty._

_I wondered why on earth this man would ever work as an assassin._

_"Hello," he greeted, "my name is Gregory. And you are?"_

_His voice was charming, the obvious intonation of a proper Englishman._

_"I'm Christophe." I said, holding out my hand. He clasped it and shook firmly._

_"Glad to see you guys are getting along so well." My boss smirked._

"So that's when it started, huh?" Dr. Lang cut in. I lifted my head and nodded at him.

"It started with him. I've never had the courage to tell anyone, so congratulations, you have my biggest secret." I laughed.

He jotted a few notes then removed his glasses.

"Why don't you tell me why he thinks you have claustrophobia?" he pressed, adjusting himself in his chair.

"It was just yesterday, actually," I told him, "when we were ambushed on what was supposed to be a simple mission. When we woke up, we were crammed into a box, and he was right there in front of me. Too close. I reacted in a hysterical manner, and he drew a line from that to me being afraid of enclosed spaces."

Dr. Land hmmed in understanding, wrote a bit more on the pad and looked back to me.

"Here's what were going to do Christophe," he began. "We're going to tell Gregory that you'll be going through some exposure therapy. It's what we do for most patients with phobias. In actuality, you'll be talking to me for an hour about your predicament. Sound good?"

I smiled in gratitude, then stood and shook his hand.

"Thank you, Dr. Lang." I said.

I entered the waiting room and Gregory looked away from the TV.

"How was it?" he asked, standing up.

I shrugged. "It was fine. He told me that I'd go through some exposure therapy to help with it."

He smiled. "Good. I'm glad you agreed to let me help. I'd hate to see you suffer and not allow me to do anything."

We left the building side-by-side, in silence. I could only grin at his words.

* * *

"How are you this morning, Christophe?" Dr. Lang asked.

I felt the corners of my mouth turn up. "Fine, doctor. Just harbouring a desperate crush on the man I have to work with in close quarters at all times. Nothing big."

Dr. Lang chuckled lowly. "As chipper as ever I see."

It had been a week of pretending that I'd actually been working on my claustrophobia. Gregory remained in the dark, still believing that he's helping, although he really wasn't. Especially when he comes into my apartment every night to see how my therapy is going.

Dr. Lang had been helping me with my "problem". He told me not to repress the feelings I had towards Gregory, to accept them completely. That way it wouldn't cause me as much distress.

I think it just helped to finally confess my secret to somebody.

"This is getting close to the end of our sessions, Christophe." Dr. Lang explained.

I clasped my hands together and leaned forward.

"Well, you've been a big help, doctor. I feel a lot better about my situation." I smiled. "Maybe someday, I'll have enough confidence to actually tell Gregory my feelings towards him."

I stood and said my goodbyes to Dr. Lang and entered the waiting room to meet up with Gregory, as usual. But when I walked through the door, he wasn't sitting in his regular spot. I turned to the receptionist.

"Do you know where my friend went?" I asked.

A smile lit on her face.

"Oh, he just stepped into the washroom." she said.

I felt relieved. I sat down and switched my attention to the television.

"Ready to go?"

I looked over my shoulder and saw Gregory walking over to me. His hair was a bit messy, I noted. Maybe he went outside for a bit, the wind had been picking up as they arrived at the office.

Stop it Christophe, I chastised myself. Focusing on Gregory and the parts of him. Although his hair looks great.

"Yes, I am." I said. I stood up quickly and had to fix my shirt because the chair had caused it to ride up.

I heard Gregory cough loudly and turned to him.

"Are you getting a cold?" I asked, worriedly.

He smiled sheepishly. "I think so. The season's changing now." he mused.

I furrowed my brow.

"I'll get you some cold medicine back at the apartment," I said, "come on."

Back at the apartment, I raided the cupboards for some DayQuil.

"Maybe I left it in my overnight bag..." I muttered.

"Really, Christophe. It's just a teeny chest cold. Nothing to fuss about." I heard Gregory call from the other room.

I puffed out a breath. Stubborn, typical of Gregory. I kneeled down to look under the sink. Knowing me I'd probably shoved it under here because I'd mistaken it for floor cleaner.

"Christophe, I-"

I peeked under my arm to see Gregory in the doorway, staring at me with his face a bright red.

I stood up and walked toward him. Fuck, he looked flustered.

No he doesn't, I rationalized, it's his cold.

"Are you burning up?" I asked, reaching for his arm.

Gregory straightened out and stared directly forward.

"Do you really?" he gasped.

I pulled my hand away and frowned in confusion.

"Do you really have feelings for me?" he said, looking to my eyes.

I backed up and felt the sink press up against my back. I felt terror course through my body.

"How-" I choked.

Gregory's face and posture softened, and he almost looked guilty.

"I was walking to the bathroom, but as I was leaving I overheard. I ducked back in when I heard you say goodbye to Dr. Lang.," he told me.

"I just never thought..." Gregory said, pausing before he could finish.

I blinked and moved in front of him again.

"You don't mean..." I said.

He nodded, his back straightening again.

"But... I mean you never seemed-" I spluttered, utterly confused.

Gregory reached up and tugged my face to his, pressing his lips to mine. My eyes fluttered closed and I wrapped my arms around his waist, bringing him closer. His lips glided over mine, resting perfectly against them. I felt my heart pound heavily in my chest.

Gregory sighed happily, and it was a sound of relief, as if this was the point in his life he'd been waiting for. He pulled away from me and I felt his breath flutter over my lips. It was warm and I laughed quietly.

"This can't actually be happening." I insisted.

Gregory tilted his head.

"Funny," he marveled, "I was going to say the same thing."

We moved into the living room.

"You know, I never really had claustrophobia." I confessed.

Gregory nodded, sitting down in my armchair.

"I gathered, now that I know you have the hots for me." he quipped.

I raised an eyebrow.

"Getting cocky, are we?" I smirked. "Arrogance never suited anyone."

"I'll make you eat those words tonight," he growled.

My eyes narrowed, and my mind raced at the prospect of those words.

"I'd like to see you try." I challenged.

Gregory chuckled, "Want to find out right now?"

I stopped and a thought struck me.

"Hold on," I interrupted, "I have to do something first."

Gregory regarded me curiously, but nodded.

* * *

"Dr. Lang?" I called.

He looked up over his glasses and smiled when he saw me.

"Oh, hello Christophe. Is there something you need?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"Just wanted to say thank you. I won't be needing to come in anymore, though." I told him.

His expression was knowing.

"Have a nice evening then, Christophe. Tell Gregory hello for me."

With that he returned to his book and I left the office.

"Have a good evening, sir."

I smiled at the receptionist.

"I will."


End file.
